Thanks!
keeping up with the jones’ has turned into keeping up with the jobs. rather than the status of a 4-car garage, it’s now a 4-pod family. technology, i adore it! especially when whatever new gadget comes out with a pink version. who cares if i need it, or will even use it. it’s pink therefore i can’t live without it.
ibeat, i need it. i desperately want to be the beat bouncin’ beacon of boppity brilliance, mostly i just think i’d be cute.
i haven’t felt much like blogging this weekend, because i’m in a bit of a foul mood. however, despite that some things cannot be ignored….the oscars.
i heart jon stewart, george clooney, and i don’t really care about the plight of the pimp!
any comments or emails i receive due to this blog, instantly become property of this blog–for my use, so don’t piss me off. i will repost and humiliate as i see fit. don’t like it, then don’t email me propositions with child molester pictures attached.
simple, isn’t it?
the offender knows who he is. the rest of you have nothing to worry about, i promise!
you guys deserve a break, so instead of boring you with another novel length post, i bring you the friday five early (even if scott and i are the only ones who find it the least bit entertaining).
top 5 movies you’re embarrassed you liked:
1) singles ward
2) dance ’til dawn
3) quarterback princess
4) pippi longstockings
5) can’t buy me love
i’ll spare you the reasons why i love ’em, and no need to point out my pathetic obsession with 80’s bubblegum teeny-bopper movies. trust me, i know! consider yourself lucky it’s a five thing, as you really would hate to see the list continue.
Two weeks ago, I had a few ideas about stress. I had just gotten off the phone with a friend of mine who lives/works in Kanab, Utah. She works for the BLM and I was trying to talk her into hook me up with a hard to get hiking permit to an absolutely gorgeous plot of earth down in the red desert. The stars had aligned and it was both my girlfriend’s birthday and her spring break. Or whatever the hell they call it when it happens before spring. No luck. And after checking out the never reliable but still controlling weather forecast, things didn’t exactly look stable. I have a few pressures here: strongest being, for my last birthday, she had given me a 10 day trip to Hawaii. This is what athletes refer to as, competition. I think that I will always lack the foresight and organization to plan a vacation that doesn’t involve a tent.
I like surprises. So, approaching her about my anxieties about a trip, meant revealing the possibility of a trip. After swallowing a little pride, I explained my situation and she comforted my insecurity by telling me that she didn’t need to go on a trip. “Just apply that money towards a ring.” I’ve learned that anytime a woman uses the phrase “a ring”, the reference couldn’t be more specific. There is only a singular option. We joke about this all the time, but to be fair, I’m pretty sure that it’s only been me that’s found it funny. (Sarah is horrified at this point and I wish I could see the disgusted look on your face as you read this.) The truth is, we’ve dated for a year and a half and we both feel comfortable with the happily ever after scheme.
At some point in the following days as we were lounging about on the couch, my mind started wandering and so I asked what kind of ring she pictured in her head. Without hesitation, she gave me the obligatory reassurance that she would love any ring that I gave her. That doesn’t help me, so I asked again. She hesitated, gave me a once over, then opened up her iBook. She had ideas alright, and they were all being kept in a folder on her notebook. After about 5 minutes, I realized that they all had something else in common. They all said, Tiffany Co. Suddenly, I’m rethinking the wisdom in the 20 minutes we’d spent in the Rodeo Drive store last Valentine’s day “for fun”. The shoes at Prada now seem rather reasonable.
I’m quite aware that she has two rings in her possession. And of course by rings, I keep with the theme of RINGS. The first, a beautifully ornate ring from 1930 that had belonged to her grandmother. The other was a basic yellow gold solitaire from a previous suitor. He left the ring behind to cover some of his outstanding bills. We just found out that the cubic zirconium is worth a grand total of $20. Which means that we also just found out that it’s a cubic zirconium. Goodness this is an awkward situation. My evolutionary instincts of cockpetition immediately go to work and I’m proud for being better, but the 37% femininity of my upbringing reminds me that this is pretty low news.
Shopping for rings is one thing. I gave myself three pimples over Christmas on the Sundance site finding her a ring from Santa. Of course I’ve got impeccable taste and she loves it, even if I did label it as a ‘practice ring’. Which makes asking for her input all the more interesting. She flirts with indecision. Most evenings ‘out’ include 30 minutes of fashion show before we make it out the door. I’ve never told her what to wear, but all too often, I decide. I don’t expect her to pick out her own ring; I just want to make sure that I’m headed in the right direction. I’ve since spent hours hunched over glass counters holding a ‘loop’ up to my eye. Squinting; either trying to adjust to the magnification or the price tag. (If I didn’t have a brand new bike already, this would be so much harder to justify. Did I mention that I haven’t exactly had a job for 6 months?) In many ways, it’s almost fun. In the end, I’ve decided to design and build. In the end, it will be gorgeous and hopefully an adequate representation of each of us.
In retribution to all the stress, I feigned excitement about a wedding expo in Utah County last weekend. Of course the idea horrified her but I knew that she wouldn’t pass up an effort on my part to plan something. It turned out to be in a barn at Thanksgiving Point. The first question I was asked was if I’d be interested in sitting down with some guy for an hour critiquing his china patterns. It was hard to say no, so I asked him where the roosters where. Over the next 60 minutes, I came to the conclusion that Utah is a very special place. If you are even slightly considering getting married in the next 6 months, I would encourage you to stall until the 2007 models come out. Here are the trends:
-Chocolate ‘fondue’ fountains-Nothing says elegant like messy AND unhygienic.
-Wedding videos shown through a waterfall-I saw it, and it still doesn’t make any sense.
-Bad photographers.
-Target does wedding cakes AND caters. Which means that, by association, Wal-Mart does too!
-There’s an assumption in the UC that your reception will be taking place in the ubiquitous carpeted ‘cultural hall’ of the local Mormon church. “We’ll help you make it pretty.” I doubt it.
-The best age to get married is 20 so that you never have to worry about the hassles of having a personality.
I can hardly wait for the next expo. This exciting weekend of first time adventures was supposed to include one more. Our first trip to counseling for some pre-marital advice. Unfortunately, our therapist called the night before to cancel due to the flu. I’m not sure that the first exposure she has of me is the screaming monkey on my voicemail necessarily bodes well…
i am lucky to be considered one of the cool kids at work, being a cool kid has it’s perks. one of which is belonging to a lunch club, our lunch club consists of 4 members: pmk, jb, alex, and myself. sometimes we allow an occasional guest. we even have approved topics: politics, religion, bikes, skiing, my dating life (or lack thereof). we are regulars at a few sandy spots. recently our sandwich shop closed, which has us thrown off–enter today’s lunch spot, carl’s jr.
as some of you are starting to figure out i am a tad picky, which is not to be confused with high maintenance. fast food isn’t my thing, too much grease, too much meat, and with the calorie intake at sbux, a girl really has to watch her figure. frankly, i had no choice today. i deserve it though, as i always have the boys drive. i always say that i don’t drive, i am driven. jb was the lucky chauffeur today, and when he drives he tends to think he is in charge. we agree on one thing, get in the car and before you know it we are pulling into the iceberg gas station grease-arena. which is how we ended up in my own personal playground. i found today that these spots aren’t so bad after all, sure the food is still….well meat, but there is plenty of entertainment. no, not clowns or balloons tied into so called animals, but fellow diners.
i have been known to eavesdrop (you have all been warned). today’s goodie was when a guy at the next table stated, “vegas is the farthest place i’ve ever been”(now that is just plain sad). pmk quickly pulled out his handy camera phone and took this little beauty (please take note of the drink cup, can’t get a date? no worries, just take along a 44 oz. refill mug to sit at your side.)….
another favorite was this…..
the trays were so warped i couldn’t eat without rocking the boat (possible foreshadowing to my future fast food ass). i can’t remember why the boys said they were warped, but i would like to think that they use such hot water to kill the germs it melts the plastic. me, a germ freak?! never. (that is topic for a whole other post).
****i am sure i am going to receive plenty of dirty emails over this post, in fact i look forward to them. however, let me say that i like people, i really really do. don’t let my bitchy little posts fool you, i can be nice. well, when i want to be.
i finally made it to MY doctor today, no more instacrapcare. my ear is still troubling me, and by troubling i mean hurting like a son of bitch (or gun for JB)! you know the drill when you have a doc appointment….wait…wait.. and then some more waiting. so i read a few gossip rags and am all caught up. did you know jen & brad broke up? people, please quit stealing the good magazines from waiting rooms! i want recent gossip, after all that is one of the reasons to go to the doctor.
i finally make it into the next waiting room, and i wait (the theme of my day). no old mags to be found there. i busied myself with the ear charts, i like to self diagnose. i was so engrossed in memorizing the names of the ear canals i didn’t realize the good old doc himself had walked in. no big deal, right? wrong. i look up to see him laughing. why you ask? i just happened to be singing to myself.
what sarah needs now is drugs, sweet drugs it’s the only thing that there’s just too little of what sarah needs now is drugs, sweet drugs no not just for some but for everyone.
you would think i would be totally humiliated, but i wasn’t. come on, they are so used to me there. i am like the daughter he never had, that quirky daughter he thanks god nightly he didn’t have.
on with the professional diagnosis…as he is explaining why my ear infection wants to linger, i interrupt with my thoughts: well, doctor that makes sense, but have you considered perhaps my eustachian tube might be the problem? it is possible it never grew into a kink as most do when reaching adulthood. i could still be hearing the world as a child, with a straight eustachian tube, i mean that IS possible.
he stops and looks at me for a moment, looks around the room and said, “i thought i told the nurse to hide those books from you!” he must have been so busy enjoying my rendition of burt bacharach that he didn’t notice the look of guilt and the sudden slide movement hiding the book under the chair.
…and sometimes i wonder why they can’t fit me into the schedule, sigh…
i had a crummy day (the reasons need not be blogged), but then i remembered i had new tubby juice, i just love bath and body coupons! so, all day i am looking forward to coming home for a nice relaxing tubby, and when i get something in my head i want nothing stops me, or so i thought….
aromatherapy lavender vanilla foaming bath. √
scrumptious sugar scrub. √
glass of wine. √√
current new yorker complete with new sedaris story. √
billie holiday music. √
locked the front door to stop any surprise guests….and i was set. i just got settled in when i heard someone coming up the stairs. please, please don’t be for me. ben lives across the hall, let it be one of his lame friends. nadda. loud knocking at my door. crappity crap crap. i get out, all while telling myself– it’s probably just krissy and she forgot something. again, nadda. my downstairs neighbor was there to inform me my tub was leaking through her ceiling. double crappity crap crap. thus endeth the near fabulous tubby i have been looking forward to, and thus endeth my evening plans. argh….
at least now there is a reason to finish off that bottle of wine.
it’s summer, the way i can tell is: i washed my car, wore flip-flops, and donned pink glitter lip gloss. these are only summer time activities for me. feel free to ignore the snow in the mountains, because i am. seriously, it’s summer. i can feel it.
which means instead of being a hermit i can get back to business. including but not limited to sarahday nights with aimee, and evenings on the sbux patio. did you hear (errr…read) that aim? saraimee is back!
we all know the term “walk of shame”, more than likely out of personal experience (like me). this morning i felt the walk of shame, without the walk. i went to take daisy out and instead of putting more clothes on i figured she would be quick and it was warm enough that i was ok. well, ok…i wasn’t. i didn’t factor in church. come sunday morning my street is packed with cars, and those cars are filled with nice church going families. there i stood in my ratty old see through tank top and super short boxers. my hair at crazy angles and make up under my eyes. i look like i had been rode hard and put away wet (i wish, sigh…). i swear those parents hurried their kids the minute they saw me, and i swear as they walked away the children were warned about girls like me. ok, maybe that last part was a lie.
humiliation before coffee, not the ideal way to start my day.
